Damisenna
by GarnetVengeance
Summary: Thanks to a successful summoning of 'the God of Evil' by an inept warlock, Damian finds himself saddled with a Norse God-turned-child. He finds they have a lot more in common than he expected.
1. Chapter 1

I will freely admit I'm a Marvel fan, not DC. Besides the occasional comic, I pretty much just stick to anything with Damian, otherwise just whatever catches my eye - which isn't a whole ton, though I've been checking out the New 52.

Basically, I might get some DC stuff wrong. If I do, lemme know, and I'll do my best to correct it.

* * *

><p>Damian didn't like magic.<p>

He knew it had its uses, and he managed when some ally foisted upon him utilized it, but that didn't mean it had to like _magic_. It was just so _illogical_; not like science, or detective work. Even the Lazarus Pits had a certain amount of chemistry to them.

But this – the magic with the runes and the circle and the chicken blood – whoever would lower themselves to this sort of magic deserved to be taken out of the gene pool. Especially this man – some C-Villain, screeching about summoning the God of Evil. He was a threat, sure enough (He'd managed to summon a skeletal army, using some ancient Greek artifacts, which Damian was currently slicing his way through while Batman went for the Warlock himself) but surely no one expected this to _work_. God of Evil? Really? What kind of idiocy-

And then there was a flash of blinding light, searing even through Damian's mask and eyelids. The warlock howled his victory, cut off abruptly when Batman knocked him out, using the distraction of the summoning. The skeletons crumbled to dust without their master to keep them, and in the clearing dust, Damian couldn't help thinking that he was right, that there was no great demonic monster here to destroy the world, that this idiotic summoning had failed and they hadn't needed to go to all this trouble after all.

Until he saw the boy.

Dressed all in green, with some sort of absurd headpiece – the entire ensemble was absurd, but the headpiece most of all – he sat in the centre of the circle, coughing up bone dust and looking very confused. And next to him, a very distressed magpie.

Loki didn't understand it. One moment, he'd been working on a spell – not even a _big_ one, just something to make it so Fandral's sword would never grow dull – when there had been a flash, and a loud noise, and now he was somewhere he didn't recognize, coughing up dust. At first he had thought that perhaps Asgard had been attacked, and he'd fallen through the floor, but then he noticed the magic circle around him, not to mention the man dressed like a _bat_ looming over him.

"Batman and Robin." Ikol said gruffly, flapping irritably as the dust settled on his feathers. "It _has_ been some time."

Loki frowned – he didn't recognize either of those names, and he was fairly confident he had at least a rudimentary knowledge of all the heroes, in case the need ever arose for his brother to work with them.

The man – Batman – scowled at the bird, seemingly unsurprised he could talk.

"Who are you?" He practically growled. It wasn't a question so much as a demand. His eyes narrowed behind his cowl, and Loki very nearly _quailed_ as he glared at the boy, before he remembered himself. He was a god of Asgard, son of Odin, brother to _Thor_, for Yggdrasil's sake! He would not _quail_ before this man dressed as a _bat_.

Still, he hesitated. Outright stated his name could sometimes end... less than pleasantly, considering his previous self. So he stood up, dusted off his hose, his mind working furiously to come up with a name, a story – a lesser god? Or perhaps he should pass himself off as an alien? That might work, but then he would have to explain why he looked so human, though maybe he could say he was a skrull if he could get his shapeshifting to _work_ but a skrull wasn't really any better-

"Loki." Croaked Ikol. "He is Loki."

"Ikol!" Loki hissed. _Hateful_ bird!

He heard laughter – whipping his head around, he saw a boy – about his own age – he hadn't noticed before. Batman and _Robin_, Ikol had said. This must be he.

"Loki? The Norse god of mischief? You honestly expect us to believe that? You must be even more foolish than you look-"

"Robin." Batman said, firmly. The boy fell immediately silent and shrunk back, looking chagrined.

"The last time I met Loki," The man continued, "He was a fully grown man."

Loki shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Much has happened in recent days."

Batman's scowl deepened, if that was possible. "He's also a shapeshifter. So there's every possibility that you _are_ Loki-"

"-I am."

"Trying to trick us with this pathetic charade."

Loki cringed. This wasn't going well. Usually, he at least had his brother to vouch for him, but here, it was just he and Ikol. And people assuming the worst, just as they always did.

Ikol _caw_ed harshly, his voice echoing in the small room, "I assure you, Batman, there is nothing left of the Loki you knew in the boy. Furthermore," He flapped his way up some nearby boxes, none too gracefully, before finally managing to settle on Loki's shoulder, "It is hardly like _he_ was behind this. This was clearly a botched job on _your_ side which brought us here. Should not your concern be sending us _home_?"

There was a long pause, as the bird and the bat seemed to size each other up. Finally, Batman – grudgingly, and with a huff – said "Get in the car."

Damian couldn't believe it. They'd brought the boy – Loki, so he claimed – with them. Not to the batcave, _thank God_, but to one of the various safe houses they had littered throughout the city, while his father tried to find out how to get the boy home.

He'd mentioned meeting the boy before – as a fully grown man, which, though strange, was nothing unbelievable – but what rankled Damian was that he _knew nothing of this_. Surely encountering a Norse god was something worth warranting in his files, but once again, his father was keeping information from him. Once again, he wasn't _telling_ him _anything._

The questions burned on Damian's tongue, but by this point, he kenw nothing would come of asking them. Instead, he stewed in his seat – only children sulked – as the boy and his bird peppered the two with questions. How did this vehicle fly? Was it like or unlike Stark's own Quinjet? Would his Starkphone be able to access the wireless networks of this world? (At this point the boy had pulled out a fairly modern looking phone, not unlike the latest WayneTech model) Did Batman know his brother? Could he tell him about when they met?

All, of course, met with stoic silence.

Finally, they reached the building – the house itself a small two bedroom flat, not in the slums, but not high-end either – and landed on the roof.

Batman turned, handing Damian a card key. Damian's brow furrowed – why was he giving him this?

"You'll be staying with him."

-  
>End Chapter 1<br>-

Oh, what _shenanigans _will ensue!


	2. Chapter 2

The boy, Loki, glanced over awkwardly before hurriedly turning back to his phone, like Damian would stab him if he caught him looking.

Perhaps he was right.

Three years. _Three years_ since he'd begun working with his father – and then all the time with Grayson before that - and _still_ he did not trust him. _Still_ he sought to rid himself of Damian, like he was some _child_ to be foisted off on the sitter when his father had actual work to do.

So desperate had Damian been, that he had actually played the child card – that he was technically too young to live on his own (despite the fact that the League of Assassins had more prepared him for being on his own), but that had only drawn Batman's ire. He'd merely stated that Damian was the only one available, and that that was the mission. Clothes and food were prepared inside, and all he had to do was keep Loki out of mischief – could he handle that?

Gritting his teeth, Damian had no choice but to bite out a yes.

And here he was, trapped in the darkened apartment with this _boy_ who thought he was a god, and his no-doubt-disease-ridden bird.

Hearing a gentle clink behind him, he whipped around, thinking that perhaps the boy's scheme was coming to the fore, that he was going to attempt to kill Damian so he could finish this and return to his Father – but no, he was merely removing that ridiculous headpiece. With a tug, he pulled back the slick back fabric – Damian had no idea what it was, perhaps some kind of silk? - revealing a head of raven-black locks. In the dark, with the black curls settling around his face as he ran his hands irritably through it, his green eyes seems to glow in the dark, glittering like tiny emeralds.

"I..." He began. Licking his lips, he hesitated, his eyes flickering away as Damian glared, "I apologize. For bringing about the falling out between you and your father."

Damian scowled, "What makes you think he's my father?"

He blinked, owlishly, "Is he not?"

A snarl slipped out, unbidden. "I asked first. What makes you think that?"

A hesitation, "He merely treats you as my own father treats me, that is all." The bird let out a harsh laugh, and Loki glared at the bird.

Damian scowled. He wasn't familiar enough with Norse mythology as he obviously needed to be, but... "Isn't your father a... a Frost giant?"

Loki nodded, petting down his birds feathers, "By birth, yes, though Odin is my adoptive father. He cares very little for me, however. My brother's the only one who cares for me."

Damian swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "You should get some sleep." He said gruffly, "It's been a long day."

_"...-But you make not take my neck!"_

_The dwarves groused, irritated at the condition. Clever Loki Silvertongue, finding a loophole to save his life. The are welcome to his head, but not his neck._

_Denied their payment, they decided to take their revenge, instead._

_But not even they could trap the trickster unaided – he was a son of Odin, after all, not to mention the slipperiest of the Gods. And so Thor, the Golden son of Asgard, had held the liesmith down, whilst the needle sewed his lips together, so – for a time at least – he might not use his Silvertongue to trick another._

_And Loki had struggled, and pleaded – Brother,_ please – _but Thor had merely frowned, displeased with his brother's lying ways. "You made your bed. Now lie in it, brother."_

_Blood had filled his mouth, the taste all-encompassing, causing bile to rise, though it had nowhere to go. He glared balefully at his brother as the rest of the Gods had laughed and laughed..._

_And he was henceforth known as Loki Scarlip._

Damian woke abruptly – part of a childhood where unexpected sounds usually meant someone was trying to kill him – to the sound of Loki being violently ill. Scowling, he attempted to merely roll over and ignore it – no reason he should care – but as the boy walked past Damian's door on his way back to his own room, he called out "You don't have some sort of other-universal disease, do you?"

Loki started, obviously surprised to see Damian awake, and Damian sneered. "I apologize." Loki finally said, "I did not mean to wake you."

"You keep deflecting my questions." Damian snarled, "Don't think I don't see it, boy."

The boy let out a harsh, barking laugh. "I apologize. I suppose it's a... force of habit." He ran a hand through his hair, and the two were silent for a moment. "I had a dream. I do, on occasion. About my previous self."

He did not look at Damian, but instead out the window, his green eyes almost glowing eerily in the dark, "I'm honestly not sure which is worse: the dreams of the deeds, or the dreams of the punishment." He ran his finger along his lips, frowning, his eyes far away.

"Sleep well, Son of the Bat. I will try not to wake you, should I dream again." And the boy was gone – he could move, and move silently, Damian would admit.

But he scowled and decided, in the morning, he would have to read up more on his Norse mythology.

He woke again to the sound of someone in the kitchen. He rose – he was never one to stay in bed once he'd awoken (unlike _some_ previous Batmen he could name), considering it a waste of the day. He was, however, displeased that the boy had woken before him; it wasn't even full dawn yet, but the boy seemed to be making breakfast. He'd changed, as well – though where he got the clothes Damian had no idea (there were clothes in the safe house for his use, but he had no idea where _those_ came from) – rather than Asgardian robes, dressed in simply gray shorts and a green-and-gold hoody.

"Isn't it a bit early in the day to be wearing sunglasses?" He asked from his place by the stove.

Damian simply scowled, taking a place by the table.

"Ah, yes, of course. _Secret Identities_." He lowered his voice to a whisper, and waggled his eyebrows. Damian rolled his eyes. He could only hope his father found a way to get this idiot back to his own world soon. The idiot went off on a tirade on how his brother – one of the finest heroes of his world, a founding member of the Avengers (what kind of name for a Super Hero team was that?) - had no need for a secret identity, but in his younger days he had walked upon the mortal plane as a Donald Blake.

He finished making breakfast – and he never _stopped talking_ – and he set out a simple fare of toast and eggs before the boy wonder.

As Loki tucked into his meal – offering scraps of toast to the bird, which was perched on the chair next to him – Damian stared suspiciously at his own plate, not trusting the supposed God of Lies and Mischief with his breakfast. He was saved from the decision – he was hungry, after all, and wasn't exactly a very capable cook – when his communicator went off.

"Batman." He said, bringing the device to his ear – though the duo usually communicated through their mask and cowl, respectively, Batman was not so remiss as to not allow for the occasion where they would not be wearing them.

Loki watched curiously as Robin discussed the current situation with his father – and he knew The Batman was Robin's father, though he had not admitted the fact – wondering what the two were planning. Robin said little on his side, preferring to simply listen. Finally, he returned the device to his pocket, and (finally) began to pick hesitantly at the breakfast Loki had prepared.

"My father discussed the situation with Zatanna." He began, taking a cautious bite of toast, "She says that such a spell wouldn't have usually worked, since Loki's such a powerful sorcerer."

"Usually." Ikol croaked from his place on his chair, "But for the fact that Loki has lost all his previous power."

"Tt. That's right." Robin glowered.

"I could have told you that, foolish boy." He ruffled his feathers, irritably. Loki rolled his eyes, tired of apologizing for the bird, as he rose and put his dishes in the sink.

"So what did they say about getting us back to our own world?" He prompted, attempted to waylay the argument before it began.

"They have no idea." Robin replied around a mouthful of egg, seemingly content that it wasn't poisoned, "But they're working on it."

The two finished their breakfast in relative silence after that, until Loki finally broached the topic of going out. Vehemently, Robin started that the two had no orders, much less permission, to leave the apartment, but Loki had simply pointed out that he had no intention of staying cooped up in an apartment when there was a whole other _universe_ waiting outside, and the Robin could hardly let him wander about by himself.

And so, Robin was forced – entirely against his will, dammit – to wander the streets with a gawking pseudo-God, acting like a damnable child while his bird flew off somewhere, hopefully to eat some poisoned garbage if the Gods had any pity on Robin.

But apparently, they did not, for they had not been out longer than an hour when he heard a familiar voice cry-

"Damian!"

His cover was blown.

-  
>End Chapter 2<br>-

Long and boring chapter is long and boring, and there's _so many things wrong with it_. But here we are. I'm sorry. Fun stuff will hopefully go down next chapter, but set up is necessary. Also angst. Because this is Loki and Damian we're talking about.


End file.
